


we make these memories for ourselves

by orphan_account



Category: Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency (TV 2016)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-24
Updated: 2017-03-24
Packaged: 2018-10-09 21:29:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10422168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: “Your mum, she looks so in love,” he murmurs, awestruck.“Well, yeah,” Todd shrugs. “I guess most new parents are. I’m sure your mom was the same.”“I don’t have pictures of my mother.” Dirk is quiet. “She died when I was three, I believe. I don’t remember her at all.”-Dirk likes looking at Todd's family photo album.





	

“Who’s this?”

Dirk is sitting by the window, long legs stretched out to rest on the coffee table, and a book Todd recognises as a photo album resting in his lap. The album itself seems a little anachronistic; he could easily scan them into his laptop and keep them all there, but every time he tries, guilt settles heavy in his stomach and Todd has to put the book away again. The relationship with his parents is on the mend, but Todd can’t help but be reminded of how much he’s screwed them over every time he sees pictures of their happier times. He’s glad, now, that he kept the book. Dirk has spent the afternoon poring over pictures of Todd’s elderly relatives in their youth, silent for a change.

At the question, Todd heads to peer over Dirk’s shoulder, wiping his hands on a checkered tea-towel as he does so. “That’s my dad, when he was younger.”

“He looks like you,” Dirk turns to look at Todd, as though reminding himself. He gives a nod, satisfied. “You have the same eyes.”

“Yeah.” Todd smiles briefly. They do look alike, he and his father. “Amanda looks more like my mom. There, see?” Todd points to a picture on the right, a personal favourite. His mom is sitting on the sand of Madison Park Beach, in a sundress once vibrant but now faded yellow. She’s smiling, carefree and happy. The worry-lines now permanent features of her face are gone. His father’s not in the picture; instead he’s behind the camera, taking snapshots of his wife-to-be. It feels strange, to see his parents before they were his parents, but it also gives Todd a feeling of warmth; they were so in love. He’s lucky that love is still there.

“She looks a lot like Amanda, yes. I don’t think Amanda would wear that dress, though.”

“No, it’s hardly her style,” Todd chuckles, and Dirk turns the page. Seemingly endless photos of Todd as a new-born are plastered under the plastic covering, innocent and pure. It’s usually about now that Todd stops looking, closes the album and puts it away before a swift drink to chase away the guilt. But Dirk is smiling like he’s looking at the stars, and Todd can’t take that away.

“That’s you! Oh wow,” Dirk laughs, finger tracing wispy black curls on new-born Todd’s face. “You’re so tiny!”

“Babies tend to be, Dirk.”

“Oh, I know. Strange creatures, aren’t they, babies? I read a theory that all babies are psychic, you know. Except me. I wasn’t ever a baby. I mean, a psychic one. I was a baby.” Dirk goes quiet, eyes returning to the picture. Todd smiles as he turns the page to new-born Amanda, in his mother’s arms and wailing with a vengeance.

“I remember that. My first proper memory is Amanda throwing up right down my back. I cried for an hour thinking she didn’t like me,” Todd grins at the memory, and slowly takes a seat next to Dirk. No point hovering; he’s stuck now. Dirk’s eyes are fixed on the image, smiling slightly and tracing the edges of the photo with his finger again.

“Your mum, she looks so in love,” he murmurs, awestruck.

“Well, yeah,” Todd shrugs. “I guess most new parents are. I’m sure your mom was the same.”

“I don’t have pictures of my mother.” Dirk is quiet. “She died when I was three, I believe. I don’t remember her at all.”

“Oh.”

Todd is struck, lost for words. He had sort of forgotten Dirk had ever had parents, really; it feels stupid, because all children start somewhere, but Dirk had never mentioned anything before Blackwing, and Todd had occasionally entertained the idea of Dirk being some kind of test-tube child created in a lab. That feels cold, so he doesn’t entertain the thought for long.

The silence stretches between them. It’s not awkward, yet not comfortable at all. Dirk turns the page.

A picture of Todd and Amanda sits in the centre. It’s labelled in his father’s cursive, this time. _Amanda’s 5 th birthday, 1995._

“Is that you?”

“Yeah,” Todd nods. Photo-Todd is sitting on at the kitchen table, wearing a party hat and grinning excitedly. Photo-Amanda sits next to him, eyes wide at the cake in front of him. Behind her, Todd can see his dad, a hand resting on Photo-Todd’s shoulder proudly. His heart hurts. “My mom is taking this photo, I think. That’s why it’s so blurry; she never liked the camera that much.”

“How old are you here?” Dirk asks, voice wavering just slightly. Todd considers, numbers flying through his mind.

“Uh… Like, 11, I think.”

“Oh.” The sound drops, and Todd frowns. “I- That’s how old I was. When I went away.”

Todd bites the inside of his cheek, and lets himself reach out and touch Dirk’s hand, gentle. “Did- Did your dad-“

“He died when I was ten. I was living in an orphanage when I started finding the cats and- Well, that’s when Blackwing became interested in me, I suppose.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s quite alright, Todd.” Dirk smiles like it’s fine. It doesn’t reach his eyes. “Can’t be helped.” He turns his hand, though, to interlace their fingers. The other hand reaches up to turn the page again. It goes without incident for a while, photos of Todd at school talent shows, Amanda on the beach, both of them in a tent on holiday, more music shows, more parties. They get to Todd’s high school prom photo, and Todd can’t help but cringe.

“Oh god, not these. I begged my mom not to keep these,” he laughs, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand.

The photo is a full-page one, and it’s pretty damn terrible. Photo-Todd is fully into his emo phase, greasy dyed-black fringe falling into his face and a too-big tux hanging off of his frame. He looks bored as anything, barely interested in the girl next to him – “Kimberly Wilder, I’d had a crush on her forever, I couldn’t believe she said she’d come with me,” Todd explains – but Todd remembers being more excited than anything else in the world. He wants to reach back into the past, tell teenage-him to smile, that it’s okay to not look so down, that playing it cool isn’t actually cool at all. He tells Dirk this, who doesn’t reply.

“You okay?” Todd asks, squeezing Dirk’s hand just so. Dirk nods, slow but present.

“I- I missed so much, didn’t I.” It’s not a question, just a statement. Todd’s stuck for words again, and resorts to squeezing Dirk’s hand once more, reassuring the other of his presence silently. “They took so much from me.”

Todd tenses; the words are painful, and they fill him with a white-hot rage, burning at his core. He wants to scream, wants to punch something, wants to find every person responsible for stealing precious memories from Dirk and yell at them until he’s hoarse. But he can’t. He squeezes Dirk’s hand. “I’m sorry.”

Dirk shakes his head, and for the first time, Todd sees a flicker of his own anger reflected in Dirk’s expression. He looks hurt, eyebrows knitting together like a child about to cry from a grazed knee. It’s so much more, though, and Todd knows it. Dirk pulls his hand away, careful but firm.

“I- I think I’m going to go and shower now, Todd,” Dirk manages, carefully closing the album and setting it in Todd’s lap gently. “You should treasure these. I-“ he cuts himself off, shaking his head once more with a look of desperate longing. “They’re beautiful.”

As Dirk moves to the bathroom, Todd wants to reach out, grab his hand, pull him in for a kiss or a hug or anything to smooth the pained expression from his face. But he can’t, joints feeling like stone, heavy and stiff. He sits still and lets Dirk go.

-

The package comes a few days later, and it’s Dirk that answers the door, on account of Todd’s refusal to move from their bed before noon on this rare day off. He does rise, though, at Dirk’s excitable shout from the lounge.

“What’s this?” Dirk has the cardboard box in his hands, an almost puppy-like expression on his face. From his stance, it looks like he’s about to shake the package to hear what’s inside, and Todd has to step in with haste.

“It’s for you, but be careful,” Todd manages through a yawn, passing a hand across his face and catching on stubble. He perches on the arm of the couch, offering a sleepy grin as Dirk bounds to the kitchen for a knife to slice open the tape.

“I love presents, Todd, and I can’t even tell what’s inside this one!”

Todd laughs, rough with sleep. “I’m glad.”

It takes a few moments of wrestling with the tape, and Todd hissing in anticipation of Dirk slicing off a finger, but eventually the box is opened, and Dirk is scanning the handwritten letter inside.

_Dirk –_

_Todd called us on Wednesday; he said you enjoyed the photo albums. He also said you had to leave your photos back in England, so Regina and I thought we’d send you a little something to help out. We’re yet to meet, but both Todd and Amanda speak nothing but good of you. I’ve seen a lot of change in Todd recently, and I know that’s down to you. I can’t express my gratitude enough._

_I hope you get as much enjoyment from this gift as we did. Treasure it, it’s seen a lot of good times._

_\- Fred_

Beneath the letter sits an old Polaroid camera, wrapped up carefully in a floral tissue paper Todd can only assume his mother bought specially. He smiles a bit, and makes a note to call her with thanks. The look on Dirk’s face is a picture in itself, and Todd wishes he had a camera of his own to immortalise it.

“Is this for me?” Dirk asks, bewildered and in awe all at once.

“You read the note; yeah, it’s for you.”

Dirk makes a strange noise now, a choked-off sob mixed with what sounds like _‘Oh.’_ He sets the camera down - reverent, as though placing a new-born baby in a crib – before taking three slow steps to stand in front of Todd, long arms wrapping right around his waist to pull him in close. “Thank you so much.”

“S’alright,” Todd mumbles into the column of Dirk’s neck, own arms snaking around the other man in a warm embrace. “That’s for you to make your own memories. I hope I’m in a fair few of them too.”

At this, Dirk pulls back, and looks at him in disbelief. “Todd. The only memories worth making for me are ones with you in them.”

In the space of Todd reaching to rub away the irritating tears forming in his eyes, Dirk has slipped away, grabbed the Polaroid, and snapped a photograph of the two of them – Dirk, beaming; Todd, with eyes red-rimmed and half-closed. He groans.

“Oh, no- That’s awful, god, Dirk- I’m crying and only just awake, for god’s sake, can’t we take another later-“

“No! It’s going straight in the album! The beauty of primitive technology, Todd; no do-overs!” Dirk chuckles delightedly, waving the Polaroid in his face with a grin before bounding to their room to pin it to the wall.

As he follows Dirk to the bedroom, all hopes of a lie-in gone to hell, Todd can’t help but smile. No matter how bad the photo, no matter how bad things have been, he wouldn’t want a do-over anyway.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Ed Sheeran's "Photograph".
> 
> This is dedicated to everyone who has been wonderfully lovely about my writing recently; I've seen it recced a lot in the past few days and it honestly means the world to me. 
> 
> If you enjoyed this, you can see more from me on my [tumblr](http://eponymousorange.tumblr.com). 
> 
> Lots of love to all <3


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